Red too

Fit the second

After the fuel was obtained and I could actually get some into the tank, I tried to start him again, but Red [my MG Migdet MkIII — see my previous blog] still refused to fire.

Still no fuel at the carburettor.

Now many of my friends and colleagues will not be surprised to know that while I am at work I am not always concentrating on "matters at hand". I often think about other things and Red figured a few times. Sometimes, I had glanced at the manuals in passing.

When I bought Red I was bequeathed a few manuals and books that have proved to be of immense use. They include:

• Haynes Workshop manual
• Owners manual (not for my model, but still handy)
• (old) Parts catalogue

and I browsed through them for hints. It was in Haynes manual that I noticed that this model has an electric fuel pump (later models had a mechanical one), and it slowly dawned on me that if this was the case, I should have been able to hear the pump when I switched on the ignition. Since Red had been with us only a few short weeks, I couldn't remember this noise, it certainly wasn't 'clicking' now. So the fuel pump was implicated.

First problem — where is it? It turns out this requires a closer look at the manuals. Haynes proved surprisingly unhelpful here: it gives a photo of the offending, but a mere word or two about where it is! The other stuff, including the parts catalogue (amazing how much you can learn from an exploded diagram if it includes everything), was more helpful. It was underneath; next to the Petrol tank. I got to it.

This sounds easier than it was, since I didn't have any ramps or stands, and getting under with only a jack or two is not recommended.

I therefore bought (second hand) a couple of ramps. This took another few days, and also some trouble getting the car up on a ramp! I couldn't push it, it wouldn't drive up and so I had to jack it up and put the ramp under. This involved a few bricks and two jacks. [I wonder if Anne will let me dig an inspection pit?]

Red

Fit the first
In my profile I mention a MG Midget MkIII. I acquired it last year and when I bought it it was in reasonable condition, and working (with an MOT!). This is a speculative purchase for me (spurred on by Anne, who thought that it might be fun — she knows me too well) and I don't have the tools or experience really. But half the fun of ownership is to gain the tools and experience. She tells me.

The first order of the day was to decide what to call it/him/her. My daughters decided it was male, although every other car I have owned (or my father has owned) has been female, so we wanted a suitable nom de la rue.

To cut a long story short, Jen wanted to call him Red Rum — the paintwork (such as it is) is Red, Tartan Red I think — but I thought that was demeaning since it implies it is only one horse-power. So in the end we shortened it to Red. I bought a Black n' Red workshop notebook, and ink-blackened the Black n' on the cover, so it reads (in red insert on a black background) appropriately, and was smug.

However, soon after we garaged him and I got a new battery (the old one loses charge quite quickly) Red failed to start. There was no trouble turning the engine over, so the new battery is OK — just no inclination to fire at all. We go into detective mode.

Aside: While fitting the new battery I banged my head so often on the bonnet, which is heavy and back-hinged with the battery right up against the back of the dash, that I removed it. It now stands against the wall at the back of the garage.

First, electrics: the spark was fine (this is so tricky to do on your own). Check.

Second, fuel: I took the fuel lead off the carburettor, switched on and turned the engine — no fuel. Aha! Have I run out? [It might true: the fuel gauge was one of the things marked dodgy when I got him, so looking at it was not obviously helpful.] From what I could tell by rocking him, and listening for sloshing at the filler, we might be very low.

Red had been lovingly managed by his previous owner, and amongst other things had been converted to run on unleaded petrol. My other car (no name, notice) is a diesel, so I do not have a ready supply of fuel in the garage: I had to get some. Also a can. Also a funnel. This took a few days.

Yo Ho Ho

Christmas is coming and it has been a busy season already.

Last night we hosted some 40 people in our house for 'carols, mince pies and mulled wine'. Mostly singers (and players) from our west gallery music group The Madding Crowd but we were also joined by neighbours and work friends. The neighbours especially came out of self-defence: the singing was rather loud.

As usual we over-catered. The mulled wine was made in three batches and was almost perfect, but 108 mince pies was a little too many to make! Oh well, we'll just have to eat them ourselves. The cheese and french bread we added at the last minute was overkill. Surprise surprise, people brought things with them: mostly wine, but there were (more) home-made mince pies and mini sausage rolls -- still hot from the oven.

One person brought a reed-organ, another a cello, another a violin and my daughter Jennie went upstairs and came down with a box of percussion instruments, including a kazoo which was nobly and shrilly played for most of the evening. Most of us were used to many old carols and a glee or two, and otherwise some well-known favourites were sung.

There is something quite special about making music and enjoying good things together with friends. At Christmas. Not only then, of course, but especially so as the sharp frosts and dark evenings draw in. Not a television on, nor a recording played; no canned laughter, no professional entertainment -- only real friends, real voices and real food.

Bliss.

Thank you, singers. Thank you.